It's Not That Kind of Phone Line
by Mikell
Summary: Donatello's having a rough night. Set in the 2k7 TMNT movie-verse. Rated T for implication of gross behavior by caller. heh


**A/N: **Hi everybody! (she says in best Doctor Nick voice).  
Guess it's been a while, huh? Well, sorry about that. I hope to have something new to share soon... I know I've been saying that for a while but I actually have a writing plan in place to finish my current fics-in-progress. Yes, that's fics. As in, plural. :) So... soon. Hopefully. Providing nothing else goes catastrophically wrong in my strange little world anytime soon.

On to the story... This is just a silly little drabble written in response to the "Employ" prompt in the Underground Fanfictioners group. Poor Donny.

Hope you enjoy his little dilemma, which was of course, lifted from a line in the 2007 TMNT movie.

The usual disclaimer; I own three turtles, but none are mutant, ninja, or even teenage as far as I know. Thanks to the creators and owners for letting us play with their toys, as always.**  
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_It's Not That Kind of Phone Line_

Donatello rubbed a weary hand over his face before reaching to settle his fingers on the keyboard, ready to type the code that would signal his re-entry into hell.

_Why?_ He thought. _Why do I subject myself to this, day after day? _The digital _beep_ of the computer, alerting him to the passage of time, jolted him out of that train of thought.

_It's time. _Dread settled on his shoulders as he pushed the necessary buttons. Almost immediately, a tone sounded in his headset. The Turtle nearly groaned.

_Perfect. Just perfect. They can't wait to get at me, can they? It's going to be a busy night. _

Pressing a new sequence on the keyboard, he hesitated only a moment before clicking "enter" and cuing up the chat.

"This is your friendly tech support guy. My name is Donny, how can I help you?"

He managed to force a note of cheer into his voice as he braced himself for the onslaught. He didn't have to wait long.

"Hi, uh.. Donny. My… uh… computer… it uh…"

Don massaged his temples, resisting the urge to bang his head repeatedly against the aging plywood desk.

"My computer… uh… is… uh… the screen is kinda… blank."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Sir. I'd like to take you through a few steps and see if we can solve your problem tonight," recited Don with forced cheer. "First, can I have you check the power cord, and make sure it's firmly plugged in to an outlet?"

"Um…"

There was a long pause and some scrabbling sounds as the man on the phone physically checked the connection. Don repressed a sigh with some difficulty. _Oh yeah, I'm working with a real mind here._

"Yeah… it's uh… plugged in."

"Ok, Sir, can you press the power button for me?"

Donatello waited somewhat patiently as the man searched for the (large) power button. With the click of a mouse, he brought up a game of freecell on his own computer screen, noting that he could finish the game in fewer than ten moves this time. His personal best was seven, but with the placement of the king of diamonds, he'd have to make nine moves before the computer would complete the sequences and he'd be rewarded with electronic fireworks signifying he'd won the game… again.

"Uh, I pushed the button. It ain't workin'." The man's frustration came clearly down the line.

Don shook his head, keeping his tone friendly, patient and calm. "Ok, Sir, I'm sorry that didn't work. Is your monitor turned on?"

"Umm… I think so… There ain't no lights 'r nothin'." The man replied. Don could hear the _click_ of the power buttons being pushed again. "It ain't doin' nothing. The screen's all black."

Don reviewed his mental list. There were one or two more things he could try, but he had the feeling this guy wasn't the swiftest antelope in the herd, and he weighed, very briefly, the thought of trying to talk him through some of the more complicated tech tricks in his arsenal, before discarding the idea.

"Sir, it sounds like your computer may need more personalized attention than I can give you over the telephone," he began, preparing himself for the rant the customer would probably go on when he heard he'd need to bring his unit in to a certified (and expensive) repair shop.

"Donny! Donny, lookit the news!" Michelangelo's exuberant voice cut through the Lair, shattering Don's concentration. He swung around in his swivel seat to glare over his shoulder at the younger terrapin.

Placing one hand over his mouthpiece, Don gave Mikey his darkest _shut-up-Mikey-or-so-help-me…_ look.

"I'm on the _phone_, Michelangelo. With a _customer._"

Mike barely looked up. He flapped a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. But lookit this! The PDs stole an armored car and crashed it into a light pole. Power's out on half the east side. Cops got the money back an' they arrested 'em. Hun's gonna be _pissed_."

"Mikey, I'm trying to work here… wait, did you say the power's out on the east side?"

Don swung back to his screen, removing his hand from his mike. "Sir, I think I'd like to try one more thing. Can you do me one more favor?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, uh, Donny."

"Can you look out your window and see if any of your neighbors' lights are on?"

"Uh, yeah. Uh… no. There's no lights on at all. Weird. The whole block is dark. Uh, I know you're just a computer guy but my lights are out too. I was gonna call the super next."

Donatello summoned every last scrap of patience and self-control that 25 years of ninja training had instilled into him.

"You do that, Sir. Meanwhile, I think I know what the problem is with your computer."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, Sir. It's tired. It needs a rest from all the porn you've been watching lately, and the best thing for you to do is go to bed and let it have a nice long sleep. I'm pretty sure that by tomorrow morning when you get up, it'll be working just fine."

The stunned silence lasted ten seconds. "Oh. Uh… I didn't know… ya know, it could get… tired, like that."

"Yes, Sir, it can."

"Oh. Uh… ok. Uh thanks, uh… Donny."

"No problem, Sir. Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?"

"Um, I … uh, I don't know. Um, there might be one thing?"

"Anything to help out a customer, Sir."

"Could you uh, you know, since the computer's down and all, could you uh… talk to me for a little while?"

"Sir?"

"You know. Phone sex."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but it's not that kind of phone line!"

Donatello cut the connection as if he could keep the contamination from reaching him through the wires, but he knew it was too late. That voice would haunt his dreams for weeks to come. He glanced ruefully over his shoulder to where his brother was lounging on the couch, stuffing his face with popcorn and laughing hysterically at David Spade's dry remarks in response to some ridiculous sit-com situation.

With a tortured sigh, he clicked in his password once more, signaling that he was ready for the next caller.

_I am a ninja,_ he recited silently. _I will conduct myself with honor. I will act in the best interests of my clan. I will do what I must to take care of my family…_

"Hello, this is your friendly tech support. My name is Donny. How may I help you?"


End file.
